Aurora’s heart pounded violently as Grayson’s words echoed in her head.
"Tonight, you’re mine." His gray eyes burned into hers—cold, unwavering, yet consuming. She took a shaky step back, fear coiling deep in her gut. What awaited her? Her mind raced for an escape, but the sheer presence of him, the way he loomed over her with absolute command, held her rooted in place. His touch still lingered on her wrist, a chilling reminder that she was no longer free. “W–What do you mean by that?” her voice barely above a whisper. Grayson tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he had already solved. “Exactly what I said.” Aurora clenched her fists, pulse erratic. Why does everyone think they own her? “I am not some object you can claim,” she protested firmly. His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Yet here you are. In my home. Wearing my jacket. Breathing under my roof.” He stepped forward, his tall frame swallowing the space between them. “Tell me, Aurora. What does that make you?” Her breath hitched. A prisoner. A possession. A pawn in a game she didn’t understand. A shudder crept down her spine. Still, she squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Her innocent face was laced with defiance, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I didn’t choose this!” Grayson watched her, and for a moment, amusement flickered in his eyes. He took his time, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt, exposing forearms corded with lean muscle. The simple action made Aurora’s stomach twist with unease. Then he reminded her, his voice unyielding. “I gave you a choice." Aurora swallowed hard. Both choices had led to the same place. Grayson’s lips twitched, something darker lurking beneath his amusement. Something almost… hungry. “You’d be surprised what people do when faced with survival,” he murmured. “Some beg. Some kneel. Some sell their souls just to live another day.” His hand moved suddenly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent a wave of tension down her spine. “But you… you didn’t beg.” She stilled, gazing at him with wide, wary eyes. “Instead, you looked me in the eye and said you’d go with me.” His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper, yet it carried a terrifying weight. “That’s why you intrigue me.” Aurora’s hands curled at her sides. "Are you expecting me to thank you?" Grayson chuckled, low and deep. “I never ask for gratitude.” His gaze flickered over her face, assessing, calculating. Then, just as quickly as he had invaded her space, he stepped back. “You must be exhausted.” His voice returned to its usual detached coldness. “Your room is upstairs. Third door on the right.” She blinked, taken aback. That was it? No threats? No cryptic warnings? She expected him to cage her, to push her deeper into this suffocating nightmare. Instead, he was letting her walk away. Grayson turned to the waiting butler. “Escort her.” The man gave a respectful nod and gestured toward the grand staircase. “This way, Miss Scott.” Aurora hesitated. Something about this felt… wrong. Her gaze flickered to Grayson, searching for the trick, the catch. Because there had to be one. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she mustered the courage to ask one last time. "How did you know me? How did you know my name?" The question had plagued her from the moment he spoke it. The way he arrived at the hotel, right when she needed saving-- it felt very timely. Too precise. Grayson didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away, crossing the room toward the bar at the far end. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, dismissing her as if she wasn’t the most important piece in whatever game he was playing. Aurora’s fingers trembled as she turned away, following the butler up the winding staircase. The deeper she walked into the mansion, the more suffocated she felt. The high ceilings. The dim golden lighting. The eerie silence that clung to the walls like a living thing. Everything about this place, about him, felt like a cage she would never escape. Aurora’s footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors as she followed the butler down the dimly lit hallway. The silence was so thick, so unnatural, that she swore she could hear her own heartbeat. The butler stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and opened it. Inside was a grand, modern-styled bedroom—luxurious, yet cold in its perfection. “You will find everything you need here, Miss Scott,” the butler said formally. “If you require anything, simply press the intercom.” Aurora nodded absently, barely hearing him. Hours ago, she had been nothing. A girl sold like property. Now, she was this. Whatever this was. As the butler left, closing the heavy doors behind him, Aurora exhaled sharply. She was alone. Finally. Her gaze flickered to the door. Was it locked? Cautiously, she padded across the room and twisted the handle. It turned easily. Her heart thudded. He hadn’t locked her in. Why? Why was he doing this? The way he spoke, the way he owned her—it was clear she was a prisoner in his fortress. Yet, the door was left open. A shiver ran down her spine as she slowly closed it again. It wasn’t a physical lock that kept her here. It was the cold, terrifying truth that no matter how much she wanted to run, there was nowhere left to go. ____ Meanwhile… Grayson stood in his study, staring at the city lights through the vast glass windows. The whiskey in his hand had long since lost its appeal. His mind was elsewhere. On her. Aurora Scott. He had planned this carefully. Every step. Every contingency. But she was nothing like he had expected. Innocent. Defiant. Fragile, yet unbreakable. He had seen it in her eyes tonight.. The way she hesitated when given freedom. She was already questioning everything. Already falling into his hands. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Good. The more she struggled, the deeper she would sink. He had given her a door that wasn’t locked. A taste of false freedom. Because the strongest cages weren’t made of steel. They were made of choices. And soon, Aurora would realize that every path led back to him.Natalie slumped against the wall, gasping, one trembling hand reaching for her throat.Her lips parted in disbelief, but no words came.Just silence.The hallway felt colder somehow. Emptier, even.She stared at the place where he had just stood, where his cold back had disappeared seconds ago—like he hadn’t just snapped. Like he hadn’t just looked at her like she was nothing.This was the first time she had seen him like that.Grayson Moore had always been cruel in a quiet way. Distant. Calculated. He wielded silence like a knife.But this? That flash of rage in his eyes, the raw fury in his voice, the way his hands had gripped her throat without hesitation—That wasn’t the man she knew.He had lost control. And not for her.It was her—Nata
Grayson lay on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other resting uselessly between them, caught in the empty space that somehow felt too loud. The early morning light crept in through the curtains, casting a soft, golden hue that slowly traced its way across Aurora’s face like a quiet intrusion, uninvited yet welcome.She was still fast asleep, her breathing even, her expression peaceful—so completely untouched by the storm that gnawed relentlessly inside him.He told himself not to move. Not to reach out. Not to want.But his hand didn’t listen.Like it had a mind of its own, it moved—hesitant but drawn, and slowly brushed away a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered, betraying him further, tracing the delicate curve of her face as if he were memorizing something he knew he shouldn’t want, but couldn't help needing.Damn it.He hated how easily his body betrayed him around her.His brain—the same one that had been sharpened for strategy, revenge, and
Aurora instinctively raised her hand and pressed it against his chest, trying to push him away. Her heart still racing wildly against her ribs, not just from fear but from the overwhelming tension between them.But Grayson seized her small hands effortlessly, locking her in his grip. His touch was firm, his warmth seeping through her skin like fire.Aurora struggled lightly, gathering enough courage to whisper, “This isn’t right… You have a fiancée...”Her voice was soft but trembling, the weight of the truth pressing heavily between them.For a moment, Grayson didn’t move. His jaw tightened as he stared down at her, the shadowed light illuminating sharp lines across his handsome face. A sharp glint flashed on his eyes— something raw and untamed.It wasn’t just anger. It was deeper than that, something that scared even him.Grayson’s hands tightened around hers as if her words had triggered a storm inside him. He wasn’t angry at her. He was furious at himself — furio
Aurora sat quietly on the edge of the couch, her hands folded on her lap, feeling out of place among the soft fabrics and elegant boxes. The gowns shimmered under the natural light illuminated from the chandeliers above the high ceiling, each of them so delicate and expensive-looking that she didn’t even want to touch them.Natalie was seated comfortably next to her, graceful as always, her legs crossed and her fingers skimming through the flowing fabric of an emerald gown. She smiled every now and then as she held up a dress and turned it slightly to show its details to the assistant standing nearby. Her voice was soft, her tone casual, but Aurora could feel something else beneath it—like thorns hidden under silk.Every now and then, Natalie’s eyes would glance toward her. Quick, subtle. But not warm.There was no kindness there, not really. Only something faint and cold, like a warning wrapped inside a smile.Aurora kept her gaze low. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t b
Edith stood outside Aurora's room. The young lady was standing before her canvas in a melancholic aura, gently stroking paint across the white surface. She didn't know about art, but one thing she observed from her masterpiece—Aurora was pouring all her pain into that painting. Edith couldn't help but feel a faint jolt in her heart.Poor Aurora. She just wished that this young woman would be set free by Grayson. She's innocent to whatever her real father did to the Moore family. She shouldn't be dragged into this cruel situation. Aurora didn’t deserve it.Edith let out a quiet sigh before she opened her mouth. "Aurora, would you like to come down for breakfast? They're waiting for you," she said in a slightly gentle tone.Aurora turned to her and smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes—unlike before. Her eyes had lost their spark."I will come down when I'm hungry. Let them have their meal first," she responded softly."But you didn’t have dinner last night. Do you
His storming thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ringing of his phone. With an irritated huff, he snatched it from his desk without glancing at the screen. It was a call from Dylan.“What?” His voice was clipped and cold, carrying the weight of his unresolved fury.“Why do you sound so pissed this late at night? Isn’t Natalie in Sunnydale? I thought you two were enjoying your little romantic getaway,” Dylan teased with a chuckle. Grayson could already picture the damn smirk on his face.He still has the audacity to joke around? It only made his irritation flare hotter.“Cut the crap. If you’re not bringing me something useful, I’m hanging up,” Grayson warned, his tone sharp and merciless.“Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off,” Dylan replied, still chuckling. “Back to business. I received invitations from Titanium Crest Corporation. Victor Hensley is hosting his annual banquet tomorrow night. You and Natalie are both on the guest list.”Grayson’s gaze darkened slightly. V